


Cold Comfort

by atsuyuri_sama



Series: Completed, Stand-Alone Tumblr Fics [10]
Category: Cyborg 009
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Cuddles, Gen, Team as Family, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsuyuri_sama/pseuds/atsuyuri_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, there was only one thing to be done… and for the first time in a long while, everyone was around to participate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr drabble, and another dedication to the awesome Axl-fox. <3

“Hey, Great Britain?”

At the quiet summons a gangly, blading man twisted around in his seat, his hands going slack on his type writer, and smiled warmly at the blonde woman behind him. “Ah, Françoise! How can I be of service, m’lady?”

“I promised Dr. Gilmore I’d help him out this afternoon, but Ivan’s due to wake up any time now. Everyone else is making repairs, gone into town, or doing housework; would you mind keeping an eye on him for a few hours?” As she spoke, she gestured with her chin down at the infant in her arms, his tiny head of blue hair a pop of color at the crook of her arm.

GB chuckled wryly, even as he pulled completely away from his work and held out his arms. He’d never imagined himself to be a family man, but… Well, with an infant on the team, _everyone_ learned how to at least do the basics. And Ivan was asleep right now; all GB really had to do was hold him. “Of course.”

A brilliant smile split Françoise’s face in response. She passed her sleeping bundle over with practiced motions, eyes lingering fondly as GB settled their ‘youngest’ member more firmly. Once she was sure GB had it all in hand, she whirled around and made for the stairs, tossing a relieved ‘thank you’ over her shoulder as she went. GB chuckled indulgently. It was nice to just feel needed (and not in the ‘Oh God, Black Ghost is on the loose and we are the only ones who can stop it’ way).

While it would have been possible to continue typing even with Ivan occupying one arm – especially between GB’s ability to shape-shift, and the fact that nothing short of an all-out atomic explosion would wake Ivan until his body was ready – it would have been awkward. Besides, it had been a while since he’d indulged in _someone else’s_ words instead of laboring over his own. It was quick work to make a pass through his room on the way to the common area, scooping up the first novel he saw.

In the peace and quiet that comes with remote locations, GB sank into his favorite armchair and flipped open his book one-handed. Within minutes, Ivan’s head tucked beneath his chin, GB was completely engrossed in his book.

… Which was why, when Pyunma walked in and poked him good-naturedly in the shoulder, (“What are you reading this time, GB?”) GB yelped, jerking around with a pounding heart to stare down the ‘threat’ while the book in question tumbled to the floor. Pyunma’s hands were raised, empty, and his eyes were wide in his dark face. After a long moment, he slowly lowered his hands and allowed a corner of his mouth to curl.

“A little jumpy?” he hummed teasingly, though his expression was sympathetic and understanding.

“Hm,” GB grunted, theatrically thrusting his nose in the air only to ruin a moment later by peeking ‘discreetly’ at Pyunma and grinning like a loon.

“I have to be on guard,” he challenged the African, hefting Ivan a touch higher onto his shoulder to make his point. “I have precious cargo.”

Unlike Great Britain – who’d thought of the possibility of children, before Black Ghost interrupted, but ultimately deemed it something he’d really rather not have – until becoming a cyborg, Pyunma had been too caught up in his homeland’s war to even consider the idea of children in his future. After a couple of days, it had become clear to everyone on board the not-yet-named _Dolphin_ that he was a natural, and was completely enamored with Ivan. That affection showed now, as Pyunma’s attention shifted from his friend to the child in question: his whole body relaxed, his smirk softened into a smile, and his hand came up to gently cradle Ivan’s head in a fleeting, familiar caress.

Pyunma’s fond smile was extended to GB, however, when the man suddenly shivered, blinking in surprise at the temperature. He’d been so engrossed in his book that he’d completely missed the way the sun had slid away from his armchair, or the way the mild autumn air coming from an open window had gone from refreshing to slightly uncomfortable. Pyunma’s presence had reminded his body of his surroundings, and was now informing him it was not pleased.

“Cold, huh?”

“… It wasn’t when I came down here, in my defense.”

Pyunma laughed outright, and then pointed at the long couch a few feet away; it was further from the open window, and much closer to the fireplace. “Sit, old man; make yourself comfortable. Too much chill can’t be good for Ivan, and it must be uncomfortable for you. I’ll be right back.”

Bemused, but willing to trust his teammate and friend, GB bent to retrieve his book, and then moved himself an Ivan from the residual warmth of his armchair to the couch in question. It wasn’t long before Pyunma was back, a blanket draped over his shoulders and a bottle of lighter fluid in hand, and a curious Jet tailing him, a second and third blanket in the redhead’s arms. He grinned to see GB seated confusedly, not in his customary spot and cradling Ivan.

With little decorum – but surprising grace for such a tall, lanky figure – Jet dropped his blankets in a pile at GB’s feet, threw himself onto the couch next to GB, and plucked Ivan from unresisting arms. As much as Pyunma felt affection for Ivan and the idea of a child to raise and nurture, Jet was fond of Ivan in a more visceral way, having bonded with the psychic long before any of the other cyborgs had even been lines on a drawing board to Black Ghost.

Pyunma snorted, rolling his eyes at Jet. He crouched and poured a careful amount of lighter fluid onto the logs in the fire place, before setting the bottle down on the side table next to GB’s armchair – and far away from any fire that might occur. Then – with less grace, but more decorum than Jet – he settled down on GB’s other side, and spread his blanket over the three of them with a flick of his wrists. For a moment it was silent, and then –

“Well, are you going to do it or not, Jet? You were excited enough about it when we were coming back.”

Jet’s smirk widened, and GB had enough time to feel a flash of concern, before the American casually lifted one leg, flexed his foot _just so,_ and briefly fired the jet there. With a _whoosh,_ flames were merrily crackling in the fire place (and the three on the couch unanimously decided to ignore how even that small puff of flame had contained enough thrust in it to push the couch back an inch or two). Jet waved one hand in a ‘ta-da’ gesture, grinned recklessly, and crowed, “There ya go, Pyunma. Anything else I can do?”

When he waited a beat, and got nothing but devil-may-care grins, Jet chuckled. Then he moved, quick as a flash, and tossed his legs over both of his companions, propping himself on the armrest and draping Ivan’s limp body over his chest. GB sighed, and adjusted the blanket accordingly; it was nice how company could warm you, fire or no. He lifted his book once more, and after an assessing glance at both men, began to quietly read aloud from the beginning, spinning the tale of a girl who was found by wizardry, and the boy (and speck of light with a singularity-class temprospatial cladudication) she befriended.

(Never let it be said that he didn’t enjoy a good modern, sci-fi fantasy every now and again.)

After a point, Albert passed by, paused, then continued on his way. A few minutes later, he returned in more comfortable clothes. Unwilling to make anyone uncomfortable, because he’d come from outside and his metal limbs were still freezing, he settled on the floor with his back to the couch, wrapping up in one of the discarded blankets. He didn’t so much as flinch when Jet’s free hand dropped down and settled, companionably, on his shoulder.

As though drawn by the gathering, and the warmth of the fire, Joe and Geronimo Junior both ambled in somewhere around the fourth chapter. Grinning delightedly, Joe slipped between the arm of the couch and Pyunma, commandeering a corner of the blanket already in use for himself. Geronimo settled on the floor near Albert, choosing to lie down instead of sitting up against the couch, to spare the others’ their leg room. All the same, Joe’s foot found its way to his calf and stayed there, while Albert’s (finally warmed) hand gripped his shoulder in the same way Jet was hanging onto Albert.

The fall sun finally slid from the sky, and – as always – Chang somehow knew where to find them… and what to bring. He hummed happily, bearing trays of steaming hot chocolate along with him. Carefully, he passed them out, and each of the assembled cyborgs were not surprised in the least, after this long, to find that he’d customized every mug. Chang paused almost comically when two mugs still sat on the tray, even after everyone had been covered… Then he huffed, eyes rolling in exasperated amusement, put down the tray, and trotted off without a word.

He returned not only with Françoise and Dr. Gilmore in tow, but another stack of food – this one of marshmallows, cholate bars, and graham crackers. GB stood up, untangling himself from the knot of warmth, and cheerfully gestured to the now-vacant spot.

“Here, Doctor! Best seat in the house, and already warm!”

The others nodded, and shifted around to make room. Joe and Pyunma stayed where they were, while Dr. Gilmore sat next to Pyunma. After a moment, Jet rolled lazily off the couch, Ivan carefully tucked against him, and curled up next to Albert, perpendicular to the couch, allowing Ivan to spill across both of their lap’s; Françoise took the spot he’d been in, curled against the opposite arm. Geronimo sat up, propped against the side of the couch like Albert, and between he and Jet, GB and Chang both made themselves comfortable. Around the circle, arms lay akimbo, one set of toes shoved under another’s warm thighs, and heads fell onto receptive shoulders.

Everyone settled in a little deeper. Marshmallows on forks were passed happily to Chang and back, warm and gooey, to be made into s’mores. Mugs of hot chocolate were carefully placed on bare patches of floor, tucked between hands, and balanced on knees. Ten pairs of eyes glanced around at one another, a toasty circle of family, loose limbs, and casual touches. A bright fire crackled and snapped in the fire place, and the windows reflected the flames, opaque with night.

< _So…_ > Ivan prompted slowly, mental voice thick with sleep, causing the team’s attention to snap onto him. With tiny fists waving in the air, and his pacifier firmly in place, he hummed, < _Who’s this ‘Lone One’ I was hearing about? And what about helicopters?_ >

GB laughed, flourished his book, and let the proper pages fall back open. They all settled in for a long night, cuddled together against the cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Brief, unnamed mention of the Young Wizards series by Diane Duain - specifically the first book, So You Want to be a Wizard.


End file.
